


Stars and Stripes

by orphan_account



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Other, Underage Drinking, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our favorite fictional newsboys get up to some Independence Day shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars and Stripes

Jack Kelly was abruptly awoken by a cacophony of harsh, metallic clanging and discordant chanting that grew ever louder.

“ _For the love of_  -,” Jack muttered groggily as he scrambled into a sitting position, glancing over to see Crutchie (bleary eyed and tangled in blankets) on the neighboring cot. “What is goin’ on out there? It can’t be more than 6:30 in the morning!”

Gingerly, so as not to mangle his leg, Crutchie slid out of bed and shuffled over to the window to peer out, picking up his crutch as he went. The ruckus outside had not subsided, and instead seemed to grow stronger by the minute.

“It’s Specs, Henry, and Race,” Crutchie guffawed. “I shoulda figured.”

Jack leapt out of bed alarmed, hoping he wouldn’t have to go down and put an end to his friends’ antics.

“ **USA! USA! USA!** ”

Race, Henry, and Specs were running up and down the streets chanting at the top of their lungs. For added effect, Race was ringing a large cowbell that had been painted with the American stars and stripes. Henry was draped in an enormous American flag which, to Jack’s horror and amusement, seemed to be the only thing he was wearing.

“Well, no use going back to bed eh, Jack?” Crutchie said, unable to hide his grin.

“Guess not,” Jack agreed. “How about that party later? Whaddya say you come with me to invite Dave and Les?”

“Sure, I got nothin’ better to do anyway.”

**A Few Hours Later**

“I’ve actually never been to a barbeque before,” David admitted to Jack as they approached the party.

Mrs. Jacobs had insisted they bring kosher sausages, rolls, and salad as contribution, so Davey and Les (but mostly Davey)’s arms were piled with food.

“Have you been to  _any_  party?” Prodded Les, giving his brother a pointed look.

“There was that one Sukkot party -”

“I don’t mean family get togethers, David.”

“Welcome, boys!  _Welcome_ ,” Race managed around the cigar that dangled between his lips.

He sauntered toward the new arrivals with a suspicious sway in his step, a large red, plastic cup clutched in one hand. The other arm he slung over Jack’s shoulders.

“How about a drink for you, fellas?”

“Now the party can begin, now the famous  **JACK KELLY**  has arrived!” Finch crowed, strutting over.

“Hey, wait a minute -!” Davey tried to protest, but Sniper had already disappeared with the food.

“Don’t worry,” Finch tried to assuage him, “There’s plenty to go around.”

The shorter boy forced a half finished drink into Davey’s hand.

“Maybe this’ll help you loosen up, Jacobs.”

“Hey Les, wanna drink?”

“Is this ALCOHOL????!!!!!” Davey sputtered, droplets spraying from his mouth, and crinkling his nose as he peered at the offending beverage, promptly snatching the offered drink out of his brother’s hands.

 Putting a protective hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, Davey looked around at the other partygoers.

 “Oh, sAY can YOu SEEEEE by the dawn’s early light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming!”

 “O BEAUTIFUUUUUUUL for SPAAAACIOUS skies -”

 “No, no, Albert! For the love of god, that ain’t how the national anthem goes! That’s the other one. ‘Oh Beautiful America’ or whatever it’s called!”

 To Davey’s dismay, the yard was littered with empty beer containers and all his friends were stumbling around drunk, singing. Mush was blasting some music and dancing by himself around a tree.

“Listen, folks. We’re so lucky -” Spot Conlon was scrambling onto a table. “To live in this bee-you-ti-foil country!”

He continued rambling.

“My folks sailed all the way here from Italy to get a betta life for me. Unfortunately they died, but - * _hiccup_ *”

Spot seemed drunker than the rest and though most everyone else was intoxicated too, they looked on in concern as the Brooklyn leader swayed precariously where he stood.

 “I got to meet all you fellas, and my life is better for it. All thanks to my parents. And this wonderful country! America! The beautiful!”

 Unexpectedly, his hiccups turned to sobs.

 “America. It’s just so great. We’re all so lucky.” Spot dissolved into tears, shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief.

 “Alright, alright!” Race announced, trying to get everyone’s attention. “The sun’s goin’ down. An’ that means time for fireworks!”

**BOOOM! BOOM!**  He set them off without warning.

Startled, Spot toppled off the table.

“’Ey, Race! Ya can’t start the party without me!” Specs stepped into the dancing firelight and glow from the fireworks, emerging from the cloud of smoke they left behind.

 “Dave, Dave!” Les exclaimed, though he didn’t avert his eyes, “Specs got no  **CLOTHES ON**!”

 Sure enough, Davey (who had been put into a fit of coughing from all the smoke)’s eyes widened more in shock than horror and nearly choked on his saliva. He looked appalled to see Specs clad in nothing more than an American flag thong bikini that looked at least one size too small and left nothing to the imagination. Other than that, every inch of Specs’ pale skin was covered in glittery red, white, and blue body paint.

 “That’s it!” Davey barked, clapping a hand over Les’ eyes. “We are LEAVING!”

 “Hey, wait!” Jack managed to yell, though his words were a bit garbled. “Dave, we were just foolin’ around!”

 Jack tried to go after Davey, who was yanking Les along behind him, but tripped over a discarded bottle.

 “Davey, no I don’t wanna go yet-”

“You should be grateful Katherine wasn’t here to see you all acting like fools!” Davey shouted over his shoulder.

"Maybe… We should call it a night," Crutchie stated when the Jacobs brothers had vanished from sight.

There was mostly slurred and mumbled agreement from the group. Some of the newsboys tried to collect the littered cans and bottles from the lawn. Others just collapsed where they were to fall asleep.

But Specs paid no mind.

He was twerking on top of the table now, and didn’t look as though he had any intention of stopping until he passed out.


End file.
